A couple of months ago my mum added me to a WhatsApp group chat called “The Thorn Tree Exiles”. “Uh oh,” I thought. Had there been a big brawl leading to the permanent expulsion of my mother, her neighbours or her neighbours’ neighbours from the pub? Or worse, were the rumours about the Thorn Tree closing its doors true? My heart sank.
The Thorn Tree is a pub in Matlock (my hometown) known for its stunning views over the Derwent valley and excellent local ales. Conveniently, it is just a short stumble from the house I grew up in. I cannot say for sure when it opened, but it was in full swing when my parents moved to the town in 1999. The “exiles” group chat started when the Thorn Tree was temporarily closed last year, and while the pub’s doors have reopened for now, its future looks uncertain.
I have always had affection for the Thorn Tree. The pub’s garden often emitted a hum of merriment, generating a warm soundscape for my childhood and adolescence. Clinking glasses, belly laughs and the excited whispers of shared secrets lulled me to sleep over summer nights.
My first proper pet—a tabby cat called Stripes—was an escapee from the inn, where she had presumably been employed as Chief Mouse Killer. When the landlords adopted a chocolate Labrador, Stripes voted with her paws and moved out. My parents did try to reconcile Stripes with her original home, but she was so stubborn that they caved. My six-year-old self was absolutely thrilled.
As a young adult, the Thorn Tree became an easy place to go for a drink with my mum or friends who also lived perched on the hillside—none of us could be arsed with the climb back from the pubs in town. Since university, it’s been our go-to for whenever I’m back from London and in dire need of a cheap pint from somewhere friendly.
In fact, while I was at home for Christmas last year, I spent a couple of evenings sitting in one of the two front-rooms, socialising with my mum’s friends and admiring the community that has rallied around the Thorn Tree. We did the pub quiz one night and the current stand-in landlady topped us all up with free wine, as a thank you for our patronage. I felt cheeky accepting the Sauvignon blanc, but I guess I’ve been a diehard fan of the Thorn Tree since before I could legally enjoy a pint.
Since the pandemic, independent pubs and venues have been shutting their doors across the country. According to an August 2025 report by the Independent, 2,283 pubs have permanently closed across England and Wales since 2020. And it’s not as though these pubs were repurposed to serve communities in other ways; most were gutted and turned into residential homes or offices.
The Thorn Tree is but one of many pubs that risks being put out to pasture. Beyond the statistics, the precarious fate of the Thorn Tree has served as a reminder of how crucial pubs often are to the communities they serve. Almost every evening my phone buzzes with notifications from “The Thorn Tree Exiles” group chat. Besides the occasional update on who may or may not buy “the Tree”, most of the comms begin with someone posing the question: “Pub?” followed by everyone giving updates on their whereabouts.
This is not to say that my mum and all her friends are major boozehounds (though they have drunk the Thorn Tree dry a couple of times). But her group of friends do show a commitment to their local pub that my peers relish in theory but fail to put into practice.
You want pubs, bars, and venues to stop closing? Go to them. Drink in them. Spend the money you would have used to make that Asos purchase on a couple of pints instead. I say this to myself as much as to my friends. I know that going out in London isn’t always easy; my friends are scattered across postcodes—and don’t get me started on the price of pints. But if we want to keep our local pubs open for those all-important, memory-making evenings, then we need to get off our sofas and onto hard wooden seats at sticky tables.
Yes, we might have to strain our voices over the din of other people. Yes, we might haemorrhage £20 or even £50 on drinks, travel and bar snacks. But we’ll come away with a renewed sense of closeness with our friends, and with fresh gossip to take home to our housemates.
Currently still operating under temporary management, I really hope that the Thorn Tree will keep its doors open for years to come. Like it or not, the pub, not the sofa, is where the real magic happens.
